


Four Little Numbers

by flight815kitsune



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bisexual Steve Rogers, M/M, Sad Ending, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, borrows from 616 civil war canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:39:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flight815kitsune/pseuds/flight815kitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blame a post by silentpeaches on tumblr that contained: "Your soulmate clock is actually a countdown of how long your soulmate has left to live"<br/>Steve's date is so far away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Little Numbers

It wasn’t much, just a set of numbers that etched a date across a wrist, but those four little numbers could ruin a person. **  
**

When Steve was able to truly process the numbers across his wrist for what they were, well- he was conflicted. The perfect little 20 that started off the year across his wrist meant that his soulmate was going to live a long, long life. The problem was that he was fairly sure they would be alone for a majority of it. Every time his lungs seized up, every time that his fever was up so high that he was sure this would be the end of it, he wished there was a way to apologize.

Buck’s date was far off, too. both of their soulmates were gonna make it to the next century. He made Buck promise once, when he had pneumonia and couldn’t even move from the bone-deep fatigue, to tell his soulmate to keep an eye out for a lonely person with 1935 across their wrist because sometimes the universe had a messed up sense of humor.

There were moments when he and Bucky had looked at each other and the question had hung there, unspoken.

He had known the mortality rates, when Buck shipped out. It wasn’t the sort of thing that was broadcasted, but this was the reason so many of the people who they had gone to highschool with seemed to have dates just after 1940.

Agent Carter’s numbers read 1943. She did not shy from that deadline, just like she didn’t flinch in the face of gunfire. When he steps out of the machine and sees the world, when he can see and hear and breathe and nothing hurts, he finally entertains the thought that it could be him after all.

It doesn’t help that, when he meets her again, her numbers are blurred.

When he helps Buck off the table, when they leave a building in ashes, when they march back side-by-side… well, anything was possible.

A few missions, and Agent Carters have now settled on 1968.

Buck falls, and the numbers still say a date more than 60 years from now.

It was a nice thought while it lasted.

He crashes into the ice cold water, Peggy’s voice crackles over the radio.

He wasn’t hers. It was a nice thought while it lasted.

He wakes up, and everything’s new. When he’s told what year it is, he winces.

Not much time. Not much time at all.

The sky opens up and it itches, and he knows it’s rewriting itself in his skin.

He wakes up in a future where people fought against aliens and won and the date isn’t the one he remembers but it’s not so far off, only a couple years.

Peggy’s still alive, and her soulmate (the father of her children) was long gone. But the picture of him that she kept on the table beside her bed, he had the same year Steve did. Stranger things have happened.

Bucky’s still alive, too, and he never would have imagined it but he does question the potential of those numbers across his wrist when both of them fall from the sky.

He only notices it’s changed again when he’s unwrapping his wrists after destroying yet another bag.

Peggy dies on a warm spring morning. He can’t risk Bucky too.

Lines are drawn. Tony picks his side. Some of their friends do, too. It was a horrible idea- there was too much trust in people they had no reason to put their faith in and there was no way that Buck wouldn’t be executed (he refuses to think about how they had taken his numbers from him and replaced them with stainless steel).

The number on his wrist changes every so often, fluctuations of years. Sometimes it’s when he’s fighting people who used to be friends, other times it’s simply different when he wakes up, but it keeps returning to now, to this year, no matter what he does. He can’t back down. He’s already mourned Bucky once, he can’t imagine doing it again. 

When he fights Tony it’s laughably one sided. Even with the suit, he’s nothing-

Even flat on his back Tony Stark looks at him with pity in his eyes. He’d always hated pity.

The shield comes down one last time.

____________________

His numbers were always blurry, faded. Sometimes they’d get darker, but that was only when his dad went on his trips.

One day after he’d already taken the role of iron man, he realizes that it’s darker than it used to be. Must have been an important life choice for his match.

It aches when the skies above New York open up. That narrowed it down to a few million people, assuming that they could keep this contained.

It’s a long time away.

A bill is being created. When the rough draft is presented, there’s a familiar ache.

He had to stop it.

They make changes, the year goes up, he edits it back, the year goes down.

Friends refuse to settle.

There’s talk of more organized action.

The buffer that had once been there ticks away until it says this year, until it remains at now.

Everyone else is at his throat, and there’s nothing he can do- his soulmate is going to die, and they’re going to die soon.

The next time they fail to talk, he knows without a doubt that the number across his wrist is for Cap.

The fight is vicious, but he’s pulling his punches. He refuses to be the one to deal that blow.

The hate that’s in Cap’s face is something he’s resigned himself to. As long as he’s still alive, it’s worth it.

The shield comes down.


End file.
